


Mirror Mirror

by PurplePlumPie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Horror, Mystery, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePlumPie/pseuds/PurplePlumPie
Summary: Harry Potter stands in front of the mirror Erised but when looking into it he soon realizes the mirror has a darker twist to it. One Shot
Kudos: 9





	Mirror Mirror

**Mirror Mirror**

Harry starred in the mirror. His father looking so proud and so much like himself, his mother everything he ever imagined. A kind and loving smile, soft features and a motherly aura. His father’s hand on his shoulder, a shadow of that image in the real world, it almost felt as if his father really did held his shoulder. The faintest trace of a pressure, a cold wind on his shoulder. His mother, smiling ever so softly at him, her hand on his other shoulder. Yet again, a faint grip and cold air as if his mother truly was there. Not just there but also there for him.

And himself, between them. Looking so small and thin but a content smile on his face. He was jealous of his mirror-self, he want this to be real, wanted his parents to be alive again.

Another gust of cold air rushed past him. Harry turned is gaze away from the mirror, taking in the room. Cold and naked stone wall and a cold and naked stone floor. Empty walls and dirty floor. No light, just the moon shining through the one window of the room. Spider webs riddling the window glass and dust gathering on the window sill. The ominous moon’s light just shredding a bare minimum of light. Dust partials swirling in the light almost looking like, almost forming a silhouette.

Cold shivers run up Harry’s back and the little hairs on his neck erect themselves. Quickly he turns his eyes away from the window and looked back at the mirror. Immediately he felt the pressure back on his shoulders but this time, he didn’t know if he imagined it or not, it was anything but a light touch. Heavy two hands were weighing him down. Almost scared, hands shivering, knees weak and sweat gathering on his back, he turned his glance up. The mirror’s image was the same as he left it. Something was different, he couldn’t quite place it. Mother, father, himself, all in the mirror. His mother’s soft smile, the cheeks a little too hollow, the eyes a little too empty and the bony hand with the long thin grey fingers digging into his shoulder. His father’s proud smile, stretching unnatural over his wax skin. Eyes gleaming with mysterious intent and his dead pale hand with long fingernails resting on his shoulder.

Harry couldn’t, just couldn’t turn his eyes away. He saw himself. Pale, too pale, skin, grey and cracked up lips, stretched into a grin even though he knew that he was not smiling. He looked thinner than before, so much thinner almost like a skeleton. His mirror-self raised a hand slowly and brought it to his throat, encircling it. Harry did just watch, perfectly fascinated by the gruesome play which unreeled itself in front of him.

Cold hands creeping up, laying itself on his throat as well. He gasped, how could this be? How could this be real? He was just looking into a mirror, how could his mirror image act on its own?

Hands pressing down, closing off his air ways. He struggled. He tried to claps the hands choking him but there was nothing. His throat where he felt the hands was icy cold. His skin felt like stone. He couldn’t think. His eyes were wide open, he couldn’t help himself but stare into the cursed mirror. His other self grinned, eyes turned black with no white visible anymore. His parents smiling, his other self choking and choking him.

He felt dizzy, the world around was spinning and spinning out of his control. He didn’t know what to do. His lungs were burning and he was gasping for air, only that no air was going into his lungs. He coughed and gasped and choked. Life draining out of him.

He stumbled backwards, fell down. Crawled with all the strength he had left, crawled towards the door.

White dots were dancing in front of his eyes.

Then, it was over. Air was streaming into his lungs again. He laid on his back, just breathing, sucking air into his lungs. He was staring up to the ceiling, looking at it but not really seeing it. He closed his eyelids and opened them again, nothing changed. The stone floor was still pressing into his back uncomfortably, his throat was burning and the eerie mirror image was till on his mind.

He was not laying directly in front of the mirror anymore. The golden frame reflected prettily in the cool moonlight, the mirror reflecting the light directly in front of it, lightening the stone floor in a silver glint.

From the corners of his eyes he could see the dust partials dancing in the light, almost forming a silhouette. From the little of the surface of the mirror he could see, black eyes were starring back at him.


End file.
